


Killjoys Shorts From Tumblr

by BeaRyan



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Death of canon characters in one chapter, F/M, Gen, Other, Tumblr, Unrequited Lust, fever fic, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of shorts.  Each chapter is a new story.  This collection will grow over time.  The rating reflects the highest rating for a story in the set.  Chapter titles include the primary ship for the fic. I'm a multi-shipper and occasionally OT3, but there won't be any Jaqobis-cest. & for friendship and / for romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Once / Dutch Cinnamon Roll

John forced down a swallow of the whiskey and told himself he wasn't choking. It was the good stuff, smooth and barrel-aged in full gravity, and there wasn't a damn reason in this world or any other it should stick in his throat like mud. They were adults, both of them currently sober, unlike him. This wasn't a big deal. 

The banging increased in speed and he wondered if it was D'avin's ass or Dutch's that was getting pounded against the rattling door of the locker. With most women he'd assume her legs were around D'avin's waist and her back was pressed against the wall, but Dutch wasn't most women. Positions shoved their way into his mind and he shoved them back out with another rough gulp of the liquor. 

Johnny remembered the first time Dutch had said "I love you" to him. He'd been drunk then, too. He was still a level two when his mother died, and Dutch had turned down a warrant to take him home. There'd been no point in him being there though because he'd frozen up in the living room. He couldn't clear out the house where he'd grown up. Couldn't get rid of Mom's clothes and all the crap that D'avin had left there before he disappeared. Definitely couldn't plan a funeral. Dutch had sent him back to the ship, back to Lucy, and he'd gotten drunk. He'd been trying to program Lucy to say "I love you" when Dutch had gotten home. 

"Why, Johnny?" Dutch had asked. 

"It's been years since anyone has said it, and, now that Mom's gone I don't know if I'll ever hear it again." 

"I love you, Johnny." 

That had been the thing that finally made him cry, and after that she'd made sure to tell him at least once a week, so often it was casual and clear. He never doubted it. She wasn't his mother, but she was family. She loved him. He loved her. No doubts. 

Until tonight. Maybe he didn't just love her. Maybe he was _in love with _her. What was the difference?__

__He'd kill or die for her, but that had been true for years. Anything she needed he'd do before she even asked. Anything. She didn't have to turn to D'avin._ _

__"Why, Lucy? Why'd she pick him him?"_ _

__"Dutch declared a sexual desire and D'avin offered to satisfy her request."_ _

__"She could have asked me."_ _

__The voice came from behind him. "No, I couldn't."_ _

__Whiskey was supposed to make you brave, liquid courage, but apparently it only made him deaf. He hadn't heard her come in. He kept his eyes on the monitors as he said, "You wouldn't be done yet if you had."_ _

__"You fall in love with everyone you sleep with, Johnny."_ _

__"So what?"_ _

__***_ _

__She had to shut this down. D'avin had been easy. Before they'd even begun she'd warned him that in ten minutes their liaison would be filed as something that had never happened. He'd countered and demanded fifteen minutes. She'd shortened it to eight and he'd slammed her against the locker and gotten down to business. Done and then done._ _

__Johnny wasn't supposed to know. He wasn't supposed to be hurt._ _

__She straddled Johnny's lap and let the kiss happen, soft and sure. She'd known it would be like this. Slow and enveloping, the sort of kiss that had been the climax of the popular novels for teen girls she'd read so she could try to understand what normal looked like. It had always seemed ridiculous in the stories, but now she understood their appeal._ _

__She'd let D'avin block out the world for what probably had been exactly 8 minutes, and for just a moment she let Johnny take her to another one, one where she was just a girl, he was just a boy, and the universe stretched out full of possibilities before them. When it started to feel true, like hope had any part in a realistic plan for the future, she shut it down._ _

__She pulled her mouth away from his, and with lips still warm and wet from his kiss she whispered in his ear, "Now pull my hair, call me a bitch, and tell me you're going to hurt me."_ _

__His voice broke when he spoke. "What?"_ _

__She stayed near his ear so she wouldn't have to look at him as she spoke the mix of lies and truth that would settle Johnny's place in her life. "I'm a grown woman with an unusual past. I know what works for me. I don't want physical affection often, and when I do I want it a certain way."_ _

__"Oh." His arms slid around her in a hug as he transformed from a would-be jealous lover back into her best friend. Protective Johnny. The one who couldn't stand the idea of anyone hurting her, least of all herself. The one who knew that sometimes she chose the pain and respected her right to decide her own path._ _

__"You're a brilliant problem solver, John. If we could be any better together than we are you'd have spotted it long before now." She gave him a kiss just above his ear, a friendly peck to close the conversation, and then stood up. She calculated the perfect distance between them, close enough to reinforce that they were still comfortable with each other but far enough away that their moment of physical intimacy was clearly over. She denied the part of herself that wanted to stand a little closer._ _

__"D'avin-"_ _

__She cut him off. "I'm very fortunate to have friends who don't hold my mistakes against me."_ _

__"Anyone but him, OK?"_ _

__"Agreed."_ _

__She retreated to her room and collapsed on her bed with a frustrated groan. She'd gone two years between lovers this time, and, given the hassle she'd been through in the last hour, it would probably be three before the next one. There had to be an easier way to blot out your troubles for a while. One that wasn't addictive and didn't rot your mind._ _

__She remembered Johnny's kiss, when all the hope he carried within him had somehow slipped over to her for just a moment._ _

__She couldn't let herself do that again. Too addictive._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are linked to an overall work, not a particular chapter or pairing. If there's something that works for you please leave a comment and let me know. 
> 
> I don't usually write for a fandom's main ship, but Killjoys doesn't seem to have one yet.


	2. A Little Tech / Cyber Cinnamon Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch had told him to figure out how Khylen's device worked. He'd not only done that, he'd made it better and customized it to suit their problems. It had seemed like a good idea a the time, and even now, with D'avin and Dutch slightly horrified, it still seemed pretty freaking awesome.

Johnny slammed the device into the neck of the woman and screamed, “Lucy, keep her alive.” Cecily had insisted on coming when they’d served the warrant on her brother, and since she’d asked him instead of D'av or Dutch, here she was, bleeding to death on his ship. 

D'avin fired off one quick shot at her assailant, the beam passing within a foot of Johnny and the fallen girl, and shrugged when Johnny glared at him. "The warrant said dead or alive. Dead it is.“

"It was almost me,” Johnny said.

“New rule,” Dutch interrupted. "Only one set of bickering siblings on my ship at a time.“

"Well technically..” D'avin offered with a gesture at the body.

Dutch examined the device imbedded in Cecily’s neck with a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d had something far too similar jammed into her own neck by someone who claimed he only had the best of intentions. “Johnny, what is this?”

“You told me to figure out the device Khylen had. I figured it out. Enhanced it. Blended it with some medical nanites that Lucy controls. It’ll keep the wearer alive and we can project a presence to it until help arrives.”

“We’re right here, idiot,” D'avin said.

“Now we are, but if you’ve gone off storming the fortress and you’ve got one of these on one of us can pat your stupid, bleeding head from a safe distance until you snap out of it.”

Dutch said, “Status, Lucy. How is she?”

“The nanites successfully repaired all injuries to her skin and muscles, however she has no neurological activity.”

“Dammit,” Johnny yelled. "I’m the one who let her come.“

"And her brother is the one who killed her,” Dutch said.

“She’d be up and walking around right now if not for me.”

“Johnny, you can’t -”

The body sat up and the awkwardly leveraged itself to standing. "Is this better, John?“

D'avin levelled his weapon at her and asked, "Cecily?”

“Lucy.”

The three of them stared at her for a moment. 

“Who’s flying the ship?” Dutch asked.

“This is a projected consciousness. I’m still housed in the ship’s computer banks. I’m also in control of this body.”

John lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Lucy and crushing her blouse, damp with Cecily’s blood against his chest. 

“Is this a hug?” Lucy asked. "Why are you doing that?“

"You’re alive. She’s alive. Sort of. I don’t know.” He looked to D’avin and Dutch who were both resting their hands on their weapons with forced casualness.

“How long have you wanted to hug me?” Lucy asked. 

“We’ve worked together as long as I’ve been with Dutch and you’ve saved my ass almost as often she had. Yeah, I want a hug. And dinner. I should make you dinner.”

Lucy’s arms lifted around John and her head rested on his shoulder as she snuggled in against him. “Dinner sounds nice.” 

Dutch and D'avin traded a glance and then looked away from the scene before them. A computer in control of a body for the first time and Johnny finally able to touch her? This was going to get complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are linked to an overall work, not a particular chapter or pairing. If there's something that works for you please leave a comment and let me know.


	3. Orders and Plans / Dutch Broker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Dutch became a Killjoy.

The nice thing about working alone was that Bellus didn't have to hide her disgust when the warrant arrived. It claimed the girl, Yalena, was 18, but if she was a day over 15 Bellus would shave her head and join the scarbacks. Eighteen was just the youngest RAC could lock and serve. The sedate and hold order was disturbing, too. Anyone who couldn't be turned in to Central Booking didn't need a ride on her ship. Best case the kid was violent and crazy, headed for a mental facility, but even that could have gone through Central. More likely she was some high ranking pervert's escaped mistress. 

It was a 6 though, and those weren't optional. 

Bellus slammed a shot of rough whiskey and reminded herself that the revolutionary who'd blown himself up in the market last week had been 14. Yalena might have earned whatever was coming to her, and even if she hadn't Bellus wasn't willing to die slow and ugly for a stranger. 

***

She caught up to Yalena two days later near a collection of huts on the edge of the Badlands that wanted to pretend it was a town instead of a bunch of inbreds staving off death. The girl got caught shoplifting a few edibles and promptly leveled a shopkeeper, two guards, and the head of village security. Respect. Then the little git had headed in to the actual Badlands and it had been time to get serious. It was time to sedate and hold the girl before someone killed and ate her. 

***

For the dose Bellus had given her, the girl should have been out another two hours. Instead she woke up and started begging to be let free of her bonds. They were four point restraints, and the kid had come damn close to slipping out of them. Bellus caught her, tightened them, and the kid began crying. 

"Please! He makes me do terrible things. There was a baby..." 

Bellus shut the door. She didn't want to know about the baby or the terrible things. That kid was a baby herself. She barely had the beginnings of breasts. A baby. People were sick. 

She went to see Hills when she got back to Westerly. The man was the best contact she had in The Company, even if those deviant idiots didn't realize how much power their local henchman really had, and he owed her.

Level 6 warrants were supposed to be kept entirely off the record. Screw that. Hills would owe her one more once he knew level 6 was real. She handed him the data tablet. "I need to know who ordered this warrant." 

He tried to hide his surprise, but she caught the flicker of interest. "I thought these didn't exist." 

"Now you know something you didn't before. You can pay me back by telling me who ordered it."

"And what are you going to do with that information?"

She was going to put a level five warrant on the asshole and specify a preference for death. She had to deliver the girl, but that didn't mean there had to be anyone alive to receive the delivery. "The girl says there's a baby. She wants to know what happened. Hills, she's younger than your granddaughter." 

"You can't just ignore this? Say you never found her?"

Bellus shook her head. 

"Didn't think the R.A.C. got involved in sex trafficking." 

"You don't want to know what happens next. Get me a name."

"How long do I have? I mean, this is a level 6." 

"I didn't say I had her. I only said I'd made contact. Still, this needs to happen fast." 

Hills slapped a hand on the polished wood of the bar. "You get the bill. I'll go get the information."

Two days later he sent a coded message. "It's not from anyone in the company." 

That was a problem. Out here in the quad they liked to pretend that they knew what went on in the entire galaxy, but really they were just four planets and a bunch of moons. There were thousands of other planets, and someone on one of them had money and connections enough to get a level 6 warrant on a child and to hide. 

She'd spent too long with the girl. The kid was spunky and smart, well educated and thoughtful. When she wasn't terrified she knew when to hold her tongue and speak her mind. Bellus wasn't sending her back to be some pervert's abuse dumpster. 

Big Joe would know how to beat the system. He could find a work around. 

***

"You understand the plan, Yelena?" Bellus asked. 

The girl nodded, her big eyes finally showing glimmers of hope. 

Three adults who knew better were putting themselves on the line for this kid. She was too adult for her age, too skilled. Maybe she really was 18. She sure had a lifetimes worth of knowledge packed into what looked like a child's delicate frame. X-rays has shown over a hundred healed breaks in her bones. 

At least Big Joe's intentions were good. Bellus felt certain of that much. As much as she hated herself for it, she and Hills were users. Right now the kid needed her, and later there'd be a payoff for having this sweet little murderous miss on their side. Westerly had no idea what was coming. 

"How old are you?" Bellus quizzed. 

"18." 

"What's your name?"

"Dutch."

"What's your last name?"

"We don't use them on Nations." 

They also didn't keep records. Usually it didn't matter once you were on Company soil and biometric scans could ID anyone, but as far as anyone could tell the kid didn't exist. 

"Tell me the plan, Dutch."

"I'll stop a robbery in the market. Hills and Big Joe will witness it. Big Joe will sponsor me as a Killjoy and I'll have papers and the protection of the RAC."

"What level will you test in at?"

"Three. I'll be Big Joe's apprentice." 

"Have we ever met?" This was the part that made Bellus' blood race. She didn't take stupid chances like this. Other people were unreliable. 

"We have not. Two months after you become a broker I'll retest. At that time I'll become a level five Killjoy." 

"You hope you'll become a level five, and we'll both earn a comfortable living if you do." Bellus pictured it. Collecting a commission while sitting behind a desk and letting someone else do the work. Gaeus couldn't retire and open up the broker desk on Westerly fast enough. This kid would spit joy from her ass once she was allowed to show what she could really do. "I look forward to meeting you one day, Dutch. Right now though, there are some scarbacks who want to talk to me about my soul and as soon as they leave I'm headed out to the Badlands to track down a lead on Yelena." 

The girl handed her a bio box. "I'm sure you'll find evidence of her death there." 

"Me too." 

Five scarbacks entered Bellus's ship, and fifteen minutes later six left. 

Just over two years after that Bellus became the broker to the Killjoy's newest level five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos aren't tied to a chapter, so if you liked it please comment and let me know what you liked. Thanks.


	4. D'Avin's Funeral, Johnny & Dutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of D'Avin's funeral. Hurt / comfort. TW: death, cremation.

Lucy's voice, clear and emotionless, stated the obvious. "D'Avin's final transport is entering the atmosphere." 

Johnny leaned into Dutch, whether to give or receive strength he wasn't sure, and together they watched as D'Avin's coffin burnt a trail of fire across the sky of the alien world. 

"Volume readings Lucy," Johnny said. He didn't want to hear the numbers, but he needed them, needed to know that D'Avin really was at peace. Level 6 wouldn't be able to find enough of him to put him back together and force him back into the program. 

"Total volume of the transport has been reduced by twenty percent." A pause. "Thirty percent." 

Dutch broke in. "I can't listen to this." 

"Confirm when he gets to fifty percent volume reduction, Lucy," Johnny ordered. 

"On my mark." 

Another pause as they waited watching the marks left as D'Avin's body incinerated on its way to the surface of the alien world. 

"Mark."

"Stop," Dutch begged. 

"I need to know it's done. I need to know he's free." To Lucy he said, "Confirm again at seventy-five percent reduction in body volume." 

The line of fire streaked across the screen, marking a path through the atmosphere as D'avin's body was reduced to its elements. 

"Mark." 

"It's over," Dutch said. "Lucy, end video." 

"I need to know, Dutch. You can leave, but I need this." 

The images continued to play on the screen, the ball of fire noticeably smaller and then nothing. 

"Explain it, Lucy. Was there anything left when he left the atmosphere? Is there anything left for Level Six to recover?" 

"From this distance the smallest volume I can measure is 20 cubic millimeters. The largest portion of D'Avin's remains is now smaller than that. There is no image because there is nothing left of his body to burn." 

Tears ran freely down Dutch's face and Johnny crumpled into a chair. "It's OK. He's out, Dutch. No Level Six, no Army, no parents. No one making him do things he doesn't want to do. He's out. He made it to Hiro." 

Dutch's sobs brought her no comfort. There was no sense in the world. They'd done everything right, gone beyond what should have been humanly possible and still it had ended like this. She had nothing but pain and questions and Johnny. Always Johnny. They eye of the storm that raged around her even now when his pain was as great as hers. "Why here?" she asked. 

"We used to hide in the hills when Dad was having a bad spell. We'd lay in the grass and stare up at the stars until we fell asleep. Hiro was D'Av's favorite. He swore he'd make it there one day. Now he has." 

The meaning of it hit her like a punch, and when she'd recovered she rested her head against his. "That story in no way makes me feel better."

"Well then, let's get drunk, and when we sober up let's kick some ass." 

"For D'Avin," she said with a nod.


	5. Fever - Dutch / Johnny

The touch was gentle, but the nature of it, the slow slide of her hand around him from behind up over his hip and then stopping below his belt buckle, caught his attention.

The moan escaped before he had a chance to stop it. This dream again. Their relationship didn't include this, couldn't include this, but dreams didn't have to align with reality. 

Her lips pressed against the bare skin of his back then her teeth grazed his shoulder, eliciting another louder moan. The next bite was harder, the sharp dig of each tooth focusing his attention and made him gasp. The brush of a kiss followed the spike of pain. 

Dutch, soft and brutal Dutch. Loving her wasn't even a choice. It was an inevitability. There was too much to lose in the real world to add this layer to their relationship, but in his dreams anything was possible. It felt real, but this had to be a dream. He rolled over and kissed her, not hiding his hunger. 

She pulled back, denying him, teasing him, forcing him to chase her, and caution nagged at his consciousness. Never force Dutch's hand. She could take care of herself, but he refused to go on the list of people who'd hurt her. Even in his dreams if she didn't want this then it was off the table. 

"No?" he asked. 

"You're sweaty," she answered. She seemed puzzled by it. 

Blood rushed through his veins, hot and eager, and he wondered what men had ever been so lucky and so stupid as to kiss Dutch without breaking a sweat. 

"You want me to put my shirt back on?" He never slept without a shirt, but somehow he was missing one now. Definitely a dream. 

She ran a finger over his collarbone and down his chest, tracing a line over his skin and leaving every point she touched hotter for the contact. Need swept over him, the kind of yearning he hadn't felt since he was a teenager and didn't even know what it was his body so desperately wanted. His breath came in pants as she continued her slow mapping of his skin. 

"Dutch?"

Softly she said, "I've never seen you like this. I thought I'd seen every side of you, but I've never seen you like this." 

Blood thudded in his ears. That was why they didn't do this. Men that she saw like this; weak, needy, and demanding; didn't last long. He'd always been weaker than her. They both knew it. They needed each other; they knew that too. 

He said, "Tell me what you want." 

Her eyes were unfocused as she said, "I always thought I'd break you if we did this."

The laugh escaped before he could stop it. "Yeah, well you're talking a hell of a lot more than you usually do in this dream." 

"Then shut me up," she said. Her eyes were heavy lidded and her voice practically a purr. 

He leaned back and took in the full picture she offered. The soft skin of her breasts was thrust towards him, made to look extra full thanks to the crush of her forearms against the sides. She'd bitten her lips to make them full, wet, and dark. One of her knees pressed against his, threading its way between his thighs. 

His teeth ground and his stomach clenched. It was a show, one he'd seen her practice before a mission. She'd learned it in the harem and deployed it against any number of idiots who crossed her path. Some had been warrants, some lovers. None were still around. "Forget it. I'm going back to sleep." 

He rolled over, turning his back to her, and closed his eyes. He felt the shift of the mattress beside him as she sat up, and then the lift as she stood and walked to the door. 

"Lucy, open the door!" Dutch ordered. 

"I cannot. You are both still quarantined."

"Quarantined?"

"You have a fever of over 104 degrees Fahrenheit. You should return to bed."

"The hell I will," Dutch said. 

Johnny blinked rapidly then mentally scrambled towards the answer. There was a reason this dream hadn't gone like the others. "Lucy at 104 degrees hallucinations are possible, right?" 

"Correct, John." 

To Dutch he said, "Your brain is scrambled by fever. Come lay down before you fall down." 

Dutch stayed near the door as if the force of her will was greater than Lucy's electromagnetic locks. 

He gave Dutch a sad smile. He'd always suspected he wasn't the only one who had dreams. Now he knew, but he still didn't know how to make it work. 

Dutch, Warrior Queen, was a great friend and partner. His partner-boss. His co-conspirator and drinking buddy. He'd trust her to the unknown end of the universe and wouldn't trade her for all the joy in the Quad. 

Yelena, thoughtful and emotional, was a woman he could have a relationship with, and Dutch didn't let Yelena out of the cage very often. 

He said, "Dutch, you have a fever and you aren't thinking clearly. Focus. It's just me, Johnny."

Tears welled in her eyes and her voice broke. "Johnny?"

His hand reached out to her and his eyes followed the gesture. He touched Dutch a dozen times a day, the casual pats and hugs of two people who were completely comfortable with each other. He'd almost put that at risk. "We're going through a bad run, but it's going to be OK." He patted her recently vacated the spot on the mattress beside him. "At least we aren't as bad off as we were three years ago."

"Do you mean after the New Year's Party or the flu?" she asked. 

He grinned and flipped the blanket over her as she climbed into bed. "I was thinking of the flu, but the party aftermath was ugly, too." 

"So bad that I hired a cleaning crew for poor Lucy." 

"So bad that you couldn't look Alvis in the eye for a week," he reminded her. 

She looked him in the eye for the first time since she'd retreated from the bed, and the softness in her eyes hurt more than any injury she'd ever given him in training. "Alvis and I get along just fine." 

"Alvis is a special case," he countered. 

"Yes, Alvis is... special." The teasing tone was there. One hundred percent Dutch, a woman who lived life to the limit and wanted you to know it. When she'd told him that story he'd laughed until his stomach cramped, tears running down his face. It had probably all seemed sexy as hell at the time, but in the cold morning light over plates of hangover eggs it was the sort of story that made friends howl. 

"I'm going to get some sleep and try very hard not to dream of Alvis," he said. 

"No sexy dreams at all while I'm in your bed or I'll stop visiting you in the night," she said.

"You take away my warrior teddy bear and we're going to fight," he said with mock seriousness. 

"Never."

"Never," he agreed. 

He blamed the sickness for the thoughts that drifted out of focus and for the flashes of heat that swept over his body. It took a long time to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a new book on action and response and gave the theory a try even though I'm not sure I agree with it. Crit con on the flow of action and emotion would be helpful. Thanks.


End file.
